


Wheel in the Morning

by slashy (slashmyheartandhopetoporn)



Series: Postcards from Dearland [3]
Category: Justified
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 14:16:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19831930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashmyheartandhopetoporn/pseuds/slashy
Summary: Taking their relationship to the next level. Featuring sex, blood, and beer!





	Wheel in the Morning

The day starts with an argument, but Raylan knows that’s not entirely unusual, so he doesn’t let it bother him too much. He can’t even remember exactly what they’d been fighting about. It hadn’t really been a _fight,_ just one of those unspoken disagreements they got into sometimes. Tim wanted a day in, Raylan wanted a day out. They both started overcompensating by saying they could do whatever the other wanted, instead of just putting their own damn foot down about what they actually wanted themselves. And then Raylan had said something glib he can’t recall, and Tim had said something snide, and here they were sitting in the car sweating because now that they’d got this far they realized they still didn’t actually have any kind of _plan_ for what they wanted to do.

Tim sighs from behind the steering will. “You want to take a drive to Louisville and day-drink in some park?”

Raylan considers this. “I don’t think that’s legal.”

“I don’t think I care.”

They drive to Louisville. Tim stops at the first liquor store he sees upon arrival and buys a six-pack and a bottle of Turkey. Raylan wants to suggest they maybe get some food for him, too, but he’s not interested in having his head bitten off.

They find a park with a winding, overgrown trail that Tim seems completely comfortable following, and that takes them to a secluded wooded area Raylan would never guess was hiding away here.

“This good?” Tim asks, already setting down his purchases.

“We should have brought a blanket,” Raylan answers, eyeing the ground.

“Afraid of getting your hat dirty?”

“ _Ha ha_.” Raylan sits in the grass and looks up at Tim expectantly. “Come on, then.”

Tim joins him, and Raylan waits to measure the exact amount of space Tim puts between them. It’s usually a good indicator of his feelings towards Raylan, and he’s pleasantly surprised when Tim scoots right up beside him. Their shoulders bump, especially as Tim opens a can of beer and knocks at least half of it back in one go.

“It’s nice,” Raylan says, uncertain of what exactly they’re supposed to do now.

Tim grunts, and then finishes off the can. Raylan watches him, wary. Then he thinks _To hell with it_ , and lays down in the grass. He puts his Stetson on his stomach and his hands behind his head, and looks up at the what little of the sky he can see through the branches of the tree they’re under.

“You ever stop and smell the roses, Raylan?” Tim says as he opens another can.

“Can’t really say I have,” says Raylan.

“They say it’s good for a person.”

Raylan takes one hand out from under his head and rests it on Tim’s thigh. Feels him stiffen. “Are you enjoying it?”

“I—” Tim starts, then catches himself. Raylan watches as Tim uses pure force of will to relax his body. He listens to Tim’s breath slow and steady. The muscle under Raylan’s fingers loosens. The hand not holding his beer comes to rest on top of Raylan’s. “Yes,” he says, all rancor in his voice absent. “I used to come here when I was younger.”

Raylan takes his hand away, but only long enough to push himself back up into a sitting position. “In high school, you mean?”

There’s an unspoken question that he knows Tim hears, despite the lack of words.

He takes another swig. “Yes.”

Raylan has never tried to imagine a younger version of Tim—he seems so young already—and when he tries to do so now, his mind comes up empty.

“Will you tell me more about it?”

Tim takes a breath. “We’d come here during the summer, or on weekend evenings. We knew we wouldn’t run into anyone we knew.” He doesn’t look at Raylan; he keeps his eyes trained forward.

“How the hell’d you find your way here in the dark?”

Finally, Tim cracks a smile. “Come here often enough, you learn the way just fine.” He pauses. “Also, flashlights are a thing.”

“Ah,” says Raylan. “Back in my day we didn’t have such marvels. I forget they exist now.”

Tim rolls his eyes and nudges Raylan’s shoulder with his own. “I know you’re not that old.”

Raylan rubs his hand back and forth on Tim’s thigh. He decides to push his luck. “So, you’d come here and, what? Smell the roses?”

Tim looks at him sideways, like he’s disappointed Raylan followed the predictable path.

“If by smell the roses you mean give each other head and handjobs and dry hump because we were too scared to fuck for real, then yes.”

Raylan doesn’t let himself react. Now that he knows the significance of this place, he knows Tim’s going to be on edge and on the offensive.

“Is that what you brought me here to do?”

He’s expecting Tim to sour and snap at him. He’s not even sure why he asked, except he’s genuinely curious. But Tim doesn’t look angry. His mouth drops open, if only a little, in surprise. At himself more than Raylan, Raylan thinks.

“I don’t know,” Tim says eventually. “Maybe.”

Raylan leans forward and takes the beer out of Tim’s hand, setting it aside by the others. “Then let’s see how far we get.” Then Raylan ducks his head to kiss lightly at Tim’s neck. It’s the one place he knows Tim can’t handle with any grace, and he tries not to take advantage of the vulnerability too often.

It feels necessary today, though, and when Tim melts ever so slightly against him, huffing out a quiet _Raylan_ as he does, Raylan knows he made the right call.

“I want you to feel good,” Raylan says, his lips trailing up to Tim’s ear. “I think you brought me here because you want to feel good, too.”

Tim can’t bring himself to answer, but Raylan knows that means he’s doing well. He loves Tim like this, when he’s so desperate to feel outside himself he lets Raylan take the lead and trusts he’ll get them both exactly where they want to go. Raylan only wishes Tim let himself have this more frequently, not just waiting until he’s so worked up for it even words fail him. Not that he totally minds Tim speechless.

When Raylan pulls Tim on top of him, so he’s straddling Raylan’s thighs, he tries not to move too fast. “You good?”

“Good,” Tim says, out of breath.

“Then touch me,” Raylan tells him.

He feels Tim’s hands at his waist, grabbing faintly at the fabric of Raylan’s shirt. Between kisses at Tim’s throat, Raylan asks, “You want it on or off?”

The hands grip a little tighter. “Off.”

Raylan fumbles at the buttons, knuckles pressing into Tim’s torso as he fights with them. He’s tempted to just rip the shirt open, but he’s already lost too many articles of clothing to moments like these with Tim, so he forces himself to do it right.

Tim’s hands move to Raylan’s neck as Raylan shimmies out of his shirt. He’s grateful for the shade of the trees, because showing this much skin during the daytime otherwise would be near-suicidal. Now that his arms are free of the fabric, he wraps them around Tim’s waist and pulls him as close as he can. Lower down, he can feel Tim’s hips shifting forwards and backwards, and Raylan wishes they were wearing anything other than jeans.

“Hold on, cowboy,” he murmurs against Tim’s chest. He wants badly to buck upwards himself, but their balance is precarious enough in this position and with no support at Raylan’s back.

Tim’s hips barely slow. “Take them out, Raylan,” he says. Keens really, but Tim would kill Raylan if he said as much.

“You sure?” Raylan asks, remembering they’re in public with open containers of alcohol. “If we get caught, not even Art’s going to be able to get us out of this.”

Tim’s eyes are half-mooned, only concerned with the immediate issue. His hips are still rutting against him. “Then we won’t get caught.”

Raylan pauses for one more moment, making sure he’s as on board as Tim is. He is. Another moment later, their cocks are liberated from their blue-jeans prisons, both heads glistening.

Raylan has to swallow. They haven’t had sex in almost two weeks. Work’s been too much, with problems between the Crowes and the Crowders taking priority in Raylan’s life while Tim’s been dealing with the Dixie Mafia non-stop. In what simultaneous free time they’ve had, Tim’s needed for rest or solitude.

But not now. Now Tim’s made it perfectly clear what he wants and what he needs, and Raylan watches the evidence of Tim’s desire bob with the motions of his hips, grazing him with every forward thrust.

“Tell me what you want,” says Raylan. His own voice sounds much needier than he’d like.

“Lay down,” orders Tim, pushing at Raylan’s shoulders.

In this position, it’s easy for Tim to lean forward and rest his hands on the ground at either side of Raylan. It’s easier too for his hips to cant so their cocks rest right alongside each other.

“This what you do with all the other boys? Shove them down and take what you want?”

“ _Fuck,_ ” swears Tim, hips rolling.

Raylan's back must be aching, but he can’t really tell. He’s too focused on the heat at his belly and the way Tim’s shut his eyes so hard Raylan fears they’ll bruise.

“Or was it the other way around?” He continues. “They had you on your back, and now you want to know how they felt?”

“Keep talking like that and I’m going to put _this_ —” a pointed thrust “—somewhere else.”

“No, you like this too much. Like that I know what you want.” Finally Raylan bucks upward. “This is better than high school. Fumbling with boys who didn’t know what they were doing. _I_ know what I’m doing.”

“ _Raylan_ ,” Tim all but whines.

Raylan takes the both of them into his hand. Then he squeezes lightly.

Tim lifts one hand off the ground and pushes up the tank Raylan had on under his shirt. 

“You going to cum on my stomach?”

“ _Please.”_

“If we were home, I’d ask you to cum on my face. On my mouth.”

Tim is close, Raylan can tell. His thrusts are losing their rhythm. They’re more desperate. He feels himself grow close, too, but he needs Tim to finish first. He needs to feel Tim’s cum on his belly. Wants to run a finger through it, to taste it. He doesn’t want to finish until he’s got some part of Tim inside him.

“I can—I can do….” He can’t even finish the sentence, but Raylan knows what he’s offering.

“Not today, honey,” he says. “I’m not letting you go.” He pumps them both faster to emphasize his point.

That last little press of skin against skin is all it takes. Tim collapses forward, face buried in Raylan’s neck, as he spills himself all over Raylan’s hand and stomach. Raylan can feel his tongue at his pulse point, laving feverishly. The fact that Tim is doing all he can to bring his body into contact with Raylan’s almost pushes himself over the threshold too.

A moment later Tim lifts himself fully upright, pressing his knees more firmly on the ground and taking his weight off Raylan.

“What—?” Raylan starts, but Tim just scoots forward until his knees are on either side of Raylan’s neck, and his slowly softening dick is within reach of Raylan’s mouth.

“I know what I’m doing, too,” says Tim, then he leans forward so Raylan can take Tim’s cock in his mouth.

It’s better than just tasting some cum off his fingers. Raylan doesn’t even mind that Tim’s going soft; that just means he’s well-spent. He sucks softly at Tim, thrusting into his own hand. Tim ruts gently into his mouth, right on the verge of being over-sensitized. Raylan keeps his tongue on the shaft instead of the tip, and keeps his sucking light. 

“I’m going to fuck you tonight,” Tim says. “You’re going to take me exactly where you need it most.”

Raylan wants to swear at Tim, but he can’t with his mouth full. So he focuses instead on the taste of Tim’s seed on his tongue. Cum hasn’t tasted the same since he was turned. It’s still salty, and a little bitter, but the flavors have become more personalized to whoever he’s with. Boyd’s had been a little sweeter. Winona, a little more tart. And Tim was bitter in same pleasant way that dark chocolate was.

Above him, Tim keeps talking. “I’m going to cum inside you, too. Keep my dick there after we’re done so you feel every drop of me there.”

And that’s it for Raylan. He feels the tremors in his legs and the stutter of his hips, and the tell-tale heat in his hands scalds the flesh there for how hot it feels.

It’s only once Raylan has totally stilled that Tim moves off of him, laying beside him instead. Their dicks are still out, shining and sticky.

“I needed that,” Tim says.

“I think we both did,” Raylan agrees. He takes Tim’s hand in his own and laces their fingers. “I missed you.”

Tim doesn’t say it back, but he squeezes Raylan’s hand, and Raylan knows the sentiment is shared.

There’s been a tension between them since before their mini dry spell. It happened sometimes when Tim had to deal with one too many vampires on the job, including Raylan. When Raylan got to feeling antsy about being back where he started, no matter the decades between _then_ and _now._ Because of those decades, really.

They always came out of it fine. Just took a little wheedling from Raylan. A little playing coy from Tim until he was ready to get over it.

This time, whatever blockade had sprung up between them had originated with Tim. More often then not that was the case. Tim and Raylan had both seen some _shit_ in their time, but Tim had the added weight of mortality kicking him in the balls whenever things got rough. It made a difference in his reactions to things that Raylan didn’t always remember to account for. He didn’t like the reminder that Tim would eventually die.

“I’m here however you need me, okay?” He hopes Tim believes him. That he knows Raylan isn’t offering solutions, but consistency in whatever strange and unexpected partnership they’ve built together.

Tim turns to look at Raylan. “I know. But sometimes I don’t know what I need from you.”

A rare and cherished moment of frankness.

“This was easy enough,” says Raylan, gesturing between their two bodies. Their expose evidence of shared desire.

Tim frowns, hands echoing the gesture. “ _This_ a relationship does not make.”

Raylan can’t deny the small thrill he gets hearing Tim all but confess he wants a proper _relationship_ with him. “So...what do you want our relationship to look like?”

Tim sighs, but Raylan doesn’t sense any upset.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what it should look like. I haven’t exactly had the best models. And as for my own experiences, I’ve only ever had fumblings in the dark. Men that don’t stay to ask what I want when the cum’s wiped away.”

“Can I tell you what I want?”

Tim snorts. “Do you ever do anything else?”

Raylan nips at Tim’s shoulder. “I’m serious. Do you want to know?”

A sigh. “Of course. I’m always _dying_ to know the inner workings of your mind, darling.”

Raylan can’t keep the warm smile from his lips. “See, you’re trying to hurt my feelings now but I’m just swooning over the fact you called me ‘darling.’”

“Jesus.” Tim is smiling too, despite himself.

“I like ‘darling’ better.”

This time, Tim nips Raylan. “Okay, so tell me your grand vision.”

“I just want us to talk.”

“We do talk.”

“No, we argue. There’s a difference.”

“Then what do you call what we’d doing right now?”

Raylan doesn’t miss a beat. “Entirely out of the ordinary and the obvious product of my incredible sexual wiles.”

That earns a swat from Tim that lands dangerously close to Raylan’s dick. Then, “I don’t know how to act any differently.”

Tim says it like a secret. Fast and quiet as if he doesn’t want Raylan to catch it. But having vampire ears means very little gets by him, and he hears the confession with crystal clarity.

Raylan lets it sit for a minute. He’s not sure how to act any differently either. “Yeah,” he says finally. “Yeah, me too.”

“Shit, Raylan, I just want…” he looks down at their hands. “God, I can’t even say it.”

“That hard to admit you care about me, huh?”

“It really is.”

“Well, shit, Tim. I just want…too” he lets his own pause echo Tim’s.

They let silence fall then, comfortable and full. Raylan takes off his undershirt and uses it to wipe up their mess as best he can, then Tim tucks himself and Raylan back in. Raylan puts his button-down on after, though, because the sun’s reaching its zenith and not even the trees above can totally protect him from the heat.

Raylan knows they haven’t solved anything, but they’ve confessed to things he didn’t expect, and he’s glad to be surprised at the turn of the day’s events.

“So,” starts Tim. “How can you eat my cum without vomiting your guts out after?”

Raylan closes his eyes against Tim’s utter inability to let a tender moment lie.

“I think because it’s organic human matter.”

“Like blood?”

“Like blood.”

“Lucky for you, since you’re such a tart. It’d be a real inconvenience if your second main source of sustenance got you sick every time you got lucky.”

Raylan snorts, throwing a hand over his eyes. It’s warming up. “Your pillow talk leaves something to be desired.”

“You mean this _isn’t_ making you feel closer to me after all the intimacy we just shared?”

Raylan just turns his head, lifting his arm, to give Tim a happy look. “Nope.”

“Then how about this: Are you hungry?” He asks it so calm and cool Raylan doesn’t know to prepare himself.

“Yes,” he answers, a little confused by the switch in topic.

This is still a very sensitive topic between them. Raylan never eats in front of Tim, choosing to drink his blood pre-packaged at home alone, or from a live donor at one of the vampire bars that dot downtown Lexington. Tim’s certainly come a long way with with Raylan’s vampirism, but this is one of the areas he’s still deeply uncomfortable with.

So Raylan tries as hard as he can to hide his shock when Tim offers up his wrist wordlessly For the first time in their year of knowing one another and three months of fucking.

“Um, Tim,” he says, unsure.

Tim’s voice is totally flat as he answers, “Yes, Raylan?”

“I don’t want to get the wrong impression here.”

“It’s not the wrong impression.”

Raylan sits up and looks down at Tim, who can only stand that for about five seconds before he sits up as well.

“You’re sure?” asks Raylan.

“Have you ever had to doubt me before?”

The answer to that is, of course, no. Tim is steadfast, regardless of the context. If he says it, he means it. Whatever _it_ may be.

Raylan takes his wrist gently in his hands, turning it so the soft blue veins are facing skyward, Tim’s palm open. “Do you have any questions?”

He’s found most people want to know how much it will hurt. Sometimes they want to know how long it takes to heal, or how they’ll feel when it’s over. If there’s anything they need to do to stay safe. He’s not sure Tim will betray any of those worries though.

Tim’s actual question surprises Raylan. “Is there any part of this that will feel good to me?”

Raylan blinks. “Some people enjoy it a lot. There’s pain at the start, but our saliva has a numbing agent. It’s like our blood...there can be a euphoric sensation from it.”

“Is that why kissing you—” Tim stops himself, like he’s given something vital away.

Raylan smiles, not to tease but because the comment makes him genuinely happy. Tim’s never acted like their more intense make out sessions have impacted him any more than anything else. But his slip of the tongue has proved otherwise.

Raylan decides to graciously ignore the revelation, though he can’t fully hide his grin. Instead, he just says, “Basically, this experience will be what you make it. For some, the intimacy is arousing. For others, it’s discomfiting. We won’t know how you react until we do it, and even then your feelings about it may change over time if we do it again.”

“And how’s it going to make you feel?”

“You mean, am I going to want to fuck your brains out when we’re done like all the movies say?”

No obvious response from Tim besides a thinning of lips.

“Not every vampire likes food sex, Tim. I know how to stay in control, and I’ll do everything in my power to make you feel comfortable.”

Tim swallows. “Fine. That’s—okay.”

Raylan kisses the skin of Tim’s wrist. “Are you ready?”

Tim nods.

“I’d like to hear you say it.”

A small glare, anger at not being fully believed. “Yes. Do it.”

Because Tim’s never done this before, and Raylan knows his past with vampires, he takes extra care with numbing Tim’s skin.

“I thought you said this wouldn’t be sexual.”

Raylan wants to say _I didn’t_ exactly _say that,_ but instead he says, “I can’t help saliva comes from my mouth.”

There really wasn’t any neat way to get the protective numbing agent from Raylan’s mouth into Tim’s skin without Raylan simply licking him there. Creams existed for this specific situation, but they tasted mighty unpleasant and they didn’t have any with them besides. So Raylan was left with the most straightforward option.

Tim watched him, eyes wary. Raylan knee better than to call him scared, but Tim’s feeling was certainly in the family of fear all the same.

“I’ll do my best not to hurt you,” offered Raylan.

A tight nod from Tim.

In the interest showing Tim all the respect he deserved, Raylan didn’t warn for the bite itself. He simply placed his fangs where they needed to be, and bit.

He heard Tim’s hiss of pain, and saw the exact moment when it changed. Heard it too.

“Oh,” Tim whispered. “ _Oh_.”

Raylan smiled around his mouthful. He was meticulous as he drank, wanting both for Tim to feel as good about this as he could, and to also not waste any of the precious offering Tim had gifted him.

Blood, like cum, varied in flavor person to person. But only in the basic tastes food could have, not the particulars. Where Tim’s cum held a satisfying bitterness, his blood was a much sweeter thing. Raylan wants desperately to tell Tim this, that he really was made of sweetness, but suspects if he did he’d never get to enjoy again.

Since it’s Tim’s first time (“How novel,” Tim says later, “to be a virgin again.” “Not anymore,” Raylan replies with a satisfied smirk.) Raylan stops himself after only a few moments. He swallows a last mouthful and then licks once more at the pin prick wounds.

“That feels,” starts Tim, and then stops at a seeming loss for words. “Good,” he finishes lamely.

Raylan raises his head from Tim’s wrist and watches as his saliva does quick work of closing the holes, pleased. He gives a final lick to clean any lasting blood.

“How’re you doing?” He asks Tim as he wipes at his mouth.

“Well,” Tim says, looking down at the bulge in his pants. “Fine, I guess.”

Raylan resists the urge to paw at Tim’s renewed erection. “I told you that might happen.”

Tim, for his part, looks shellschocked by the whole experience.

“Not what you expected?” asks Raylan.

“Not what I wanted.”

That line lands like a lead balloon. Raylan has to work to take it any way other than deeply hurtful.

Tim’s brain catches up with his mouth a breath later. Maybe because he sees the way Raylan tenses.

“I just mean...this is something I wanted to—to _share_ with you. But you spend a decade hating everything a man stands for, it’s kind of disappointing that all it takes to give in is something so small as your tongue on my wrist.”

Raylan doesn’t totally follow what Tim says, but he thinks he gets the gist. Tim thought this act would be easier to resist. Harder to love.

It hadn’t been.

“What about you?” he asks Raylan. “Everything you dreamed of?”

Raylan glares, but only a little. “It was very nice.”

“Not nice enough to get you going, I see. Sorry to disappoint.”

Raylan shrugs. “I’ve done this a lot more than you. It don’t hit me the same way.”

Tim doesn’t like that, Raylan knows.

“I’m not so special, I guess.”

Raylan’s first thought is to snap, _Oh, shut up, Tim._ And maybe in a different context, a different difficult scenario, he would. But even Raylan knows that the terms of this conversation are more delicate than others. It’s not the time to push.

“That was incredibly special,” he says earnestly. “I’ve wanted to do that with you for a long time, and I can’t quite believe it’s happened. You did not disappoint.”

Tim’s nod is minute, but Raylan thinks he believes him.

“Do you want help with that?” He gesture to Tim’s hard on.

“I don’t think so,” says Tim. “It’s already going down. Is that going to happen every time?”

“Maybe at first. Probably not forever.”

“Then best we don’t do that again in public.”

Raylan ducks his head to hide his smile, small as it may be. Tim wants to do this again.

“So it was okay for you?”

“Yes,” Tim answers, forthright even for him. “It was….”

“Intimate?” Raylan supplies.

Tim gives another direct “Yes.”

He looks like he wants to say more. He’s looking away from Raylan clenching and unclenching his jaw.

“Just say it. Ask it. Whatever it is.” Raylan doesn’t want to wait for Tim to win the argument with himself.

“How do people do that casually?”

Raylan, who has done _that_ casually at least four times in the last week, tries to think of how to explain. “It doesn’t feel like that all the time. For either party. When I drink from someone I don’t have any feelings for, then it’s just drinking. They may get off, I don’t pay much attention, but for me it’s just,” he tries to think of the most accurate word. “Consumption.”

“So you haven’t been stepping out on me every time you go to one of those bars you act like I don’t know about?”

“Tim, get real.”

Tim shrugs. “This is me being real.”

Raylan feels his eyes widen. “Were you actually worried?” It’s a strange realization.

He shrugs again. “Maybe a little.”

“Is that why you offered this?” He gestures to Tim’s wrist.

Quieter this time, he says again: “Maybe a little.”

“I’m happy with us,” Raylan says as sincerely as he can. “I didn’t feel like anything was lacking.”

Tim’s smile is only a little empty. “Besides conversation.”

Raylan clicks his tongue. “That was a matter of functionality, not investment.”

“And those ain’t related?”

“Sure they are, but I wasn’t at that point.”

Tim sighs dramatically. “Then I guess my grand gesture was for nothing, huh?”

“No,” Raylan says. He knows Tim is trying to distance himself from what’s just happened. “It absolutely was for something. Tim, I know what it meant for you to offer that.”

He can tell Tim wants to argue. _Do you?_ He’s embarrassed he did something that made him so vulnerable, seemingly out of unnecessary desperation.

“Listen,” Raylan tries again. “We don’t have to do that again. Only ever if you want it.” He wonders if Tim wants him to further discount the other people he drinks from, but Raylan’s not interested in taking it that far. He said it once; that should be enough.

Something in Tim shakes loose, and with a quick stretch of his neck and roll of his shoulders, he seems to come back himself.

“Okay.” And then, “We can do it again.”

Raylan nods instead of insulting Tim by saying _Only when you’re ready,_ since Tim already damn well knows that. So Raylan just takes his hand and tries to convey his depth of feeling through the touch of his fingers.

“You ready to go?” Tim asks after five minutes of quiet.

“Yes’m,” answers Raylan. “It’s getting a bit hot for my tastes.”

He lets Tim pull him up, then guide him out of their hiding place with an ease Raylan is still impressed by. Raylan’s holds the alcohol, most of it un-drunk, and wonders if now would be a good time to suggest food for Tim.

Tim beats him to it. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t just run on alcohol. Mind if we stop for a burger?”

Raylan extends a hand. _Be my guest._

“We can feed you again when we get home,” adds Tim.

Raylan plays at sounding affronted. “You talk like you’re feeding some pet.”

Tim looks over him, smile small but sharp. “Ain’t I?”

“You’re a dick.”

“Yeah, but I’m _your_ dick, which makes it okay.” Tim slips into the drivers’ seat, snatching the last word.

Raylan supposes that’s true, and doesn’t mind at all not getting the final say.

**Author's Note:**

> We don’t know canonically (I don’t think?) where Tim is from, so I made it easy and kept it in Kentucky.


End file.
